


The Gift

by Mews1945



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-11
Updated: 2006-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mews1945/pseuds/Mews1945
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle at the Black Gates, Aragorn moves Frodo and Sam to Cormallen, where he can treat their wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is not strictly canon for either book or movies, though as close as I can make it because of my love for the works. Also, this was inspired by a poll Lilybaggins made regarding the clothing of ME.

The battlefield at the Morannon was a bitter, arid wasteland, and the temporary encampment there was no fit place to try to care for wounded men, although Aragorn had no choice but to stay there for the first two days and nights after the battle had ended. Aragorn, his foster brothers, some of the northern Rangers and a few of the other men had healing skills and they did all they could to care for the wounded. Their first tasks were to give rudimentary treatment and prepare the injured for transport. The army had brought litters with them, and some healing supplies and bandages, but the greatest need was for clean water and air for the suffering men, and especially for the two hobbits, both of them nearer to death than to life, who had been brought by the eagles from the very slope of Mount Doom. It took all of Aragorn's skill to call those small ones back from the brink and keep them breathing, and he feared that nothing he could do would suffice in the end, especially for Frodo, who hovered tremblingly upon the threshold between life and death. Frodo's young kinsman, who had slain a troll and been trapped beneath the great beast, was not as critically injured, but he would be in a great deal of pain if he were awake, so Aragorn had sent him into a light sleep that would keep his suffering from being unbearable while they made their preparations to transport the wounded to Cormallen.

In those first days after the battle, Aragorn treated cuts and stab wounds and broken bones, working to the point of exhaustion before taking a few hours of rest, then rising to go on. He would have continued until he collapsed, but his captains and Gandalf convinced him, finally, to leave them in charge of transporting the wounded men while he brought the hobbits in the first small group to a more wholesome camp in Ithilien. Aragorn, the Elven Prince Legolas, and ten of the Gondorian soldiers brought the three hobbits, along with several of the most severely injured men on litters fashioned of poles and blankets that they hitched and dragged behind their horses on the three day ride. They had wrapped their charges as warmly as possible, but blankets were few, and Aragorn feared for the hobbits especially in Ithilien's cool spring weather. He was glad of the full moon that allowed them to travel far into the nights before they stopped to rest the horses for a few hours before going on. At their temporary camps, he and Legolas held Frodo and Sam in their arms to keep them as warm as possible, and a young soldier named Willen volunteered to do the same for Pippin.

"Peregrin is a brave soldier," Willen said, when Aragorn asked for a volunteer to take charge of the hobbit's welfare. "I will be honored to serve him."

Perhaps it seemed strange to the other men to see Willen, along with their king and the serene Elf sitting with the hobbits in their arms by the fire, like mothers holding their babes. But they acccepted the sight without comment and did all they could to see to the comfort of their wounded comrades, though they had little to offer them beyond dry bread and tea made in a kettle over the campfire. They were quiet as they went about their duties, but none ever really relaxed. There were still orcs remaining, who had escaped after the battle, and no one believed all the danger had ended with the fall of the Black Gates and the tower of Barad-dur.

At midafternoon on the third day of the difficult journey, they arrived to find a bustling campsite had been set up on the bank of the river at Cormallen. It was a pleasant place with a healthful air and clean, fresh water, a much more salubrious place for the wounded to recover from the injuries they had sustained in the battle at the Morannon. Thanks to the eagle, the good news of the victory of the Men of the West had been delivered to Minas Tirith. Ships had already been prepared and under the direction of the Lord Faramir, the first ship bringing healers, along with workers and supplies from Minas Tirith had come. The healers and their helpers had been working hard to prepare for the arrival of the wounded. A great cook tent had been erected, as well as the first of the large healing tents. A smaller tent was set up near the water, and was meant for Aragorn's personal use. He decided at once that it would be used instead for the hobbits, the three who were wounded and Merry, who was to be brought as soon as possible from Minas Tirith to be with his kin.

There was a flurry of activity as the workers in residence hurried to bring more cots to the king's tent, along with a cloak stand for the king's use. The tent was not large, but there was room enough for a linen chest, four cots, a table and chair, a bin for soiled laundry, and a brazier for heating. The sturdy canvas, tightly stretched over its poles and anchored with ropes and stakes, was more shelter than any of them had known for days and Aragorn was glad of the relief from the biting wind as they carried the hobbits inside. He knew the men wondered at his decision to give up his private quarters, but it was important that the hobbits should have the best that could be found, that they be together, and have the relative luxury of a place separate from the noise and smells and the atmosphere of fear and suffering in the mens' tent.

Aragorn laid Frodo gently down on the first cot as Legolas bent to lay Sam on the one nearest it and the young soldier named Willen carried Pippin in and put him in one of the other cots. Aragorn looked around in the glow from the one lamp on the table. It was insufficient light. It mattered little to him at the moment that it was the best to be had. He was weary and cold, and the heat from the brazier was not sufficient to allow him to have the hobbits unwrapped and bathed as they needed.

The Master Healer had been summoned by the captain of Aragorn's troop, and had come in haste to attend them. His white tunic was stained with mud and his face was drawn with weariness as he stood before the king, bowed low, and murmured, "Welcome, my lord."

"Why is this camp not ready for us? We need more wood for this brazier and hot water and soap and supplies to treat the hobbits' wounds." Aragorn spoke sharply to the man, who flushed with chagrin at the words of criticism from his king, but bowed his head and said nothing in reply.

Aragorn realized that Legolas had given him a puzzled look and that he had been unfair to the man, who was working in difficult conditions and at a killing pace, trying to prepare for the inundation of wounded that would be arriving within days. Supplies were still not plentiful, he was sure, and the healer was not at fault. No one was at fault. He put his hand on the man's shoulder and spoke more gently.

"Peace, my friend," he said. "I have reacted from my weariness and concern for these, the most fragile of our charges. These three little ones are all heroes to whom the world of Men owes a great debt. I know that you are doing all that you can, and I honor your efforts. I have brought you ten soldiers who are willing to do what they can to help you with your work." He beckoned to Willen, who came to them and stood waiting for orders.

"Willen," he said. "This is. . ." He looked at the healer. "I have not asked your name."

"Eldra, my lord." The healer bowed. The flush of resentment had faded, leaving his thin face pale and etched with weariness.

"Willen, choose another of the men to help you and go with Eldra, and tell the others that they are to offer whatever help they can give to the healers until nightfall, when they may take their rest. There should be enough room in the healing tent for them to bed down there for the night. Tell Captain Berdan to set watches. Then find wood for the brazier here, and I need sheets, blankets, warm garments and bandages for the hobbits. Eldra, I need a bathing tub, pitchers and all the warm water you can supply along with soap, whatever healing unguents and elixirs you can give, and hot tea and broth. Can you spare one of your assistants to help me care for these hobbits?"

The healer nodded, eyes wide at the rapid stream of orders. "They say that you are a healer, my lord, one of the most gifted of all."

"I have been trained in the healing arts by my foster father, Elrond of Rivendell," Aragorn answered. "So I have some knowledge and some skill. Can you supply me with what I ask?"

"I will do all I can to see that you are given everything you require, my king." Eldra bowed again, more deeply than before. "And I will send you Malyn to assist you. She is young, but steady and calm in any crisis."

"I will go with the healer and help to bring back the supplies we need," Legolas said softly.

"Good. Have Malyn come here as quickly as possible, Eldra. The hobbits are chilled and their injuries have received only the most cursory of treatment due to the lack of clean water and supplies. It is urgent that I give them care as quickly as possible."

"Yes, my lord." Eldra bowed again and Willen and Legolas followed him out of the tent.

Aragorn sighed. He took off his cloak and hung it on one of the pegs on the cloak stand and finally was able to look to his charges, who lay on the cots, still wrapped in the blankets in which they had been transported.

Pippin's face was pale above the dark wrappings, and the bruises were blue on his brow and cheek and on the bridge of his thin nose. His lower lip was cut and swollen, and the freckles were gold flecks against his pallor. The hair was dirty and matted with blood at his right temple. But, altogether, he had escaped with amazingly few injuries from being trapped beneath the weight of the troll that had fallen upon him. A broken bone in his upper arm, deep bruising over his ribcage, a dislocated knee and several broken toes were the worst of his hurts. Aragorn had splinted the arm and wrapped the toes lightly to hold them straight after he had eased Pippin into sleep with the aid of a bit of dried athelas. The dislocation had been reduced and Pippin's knee had been splinted to keep it immobile for transport. He needed to be bathed and dressed in warm clothing, as did Frodo and Sam, but it was Aragorn's hope that the youngest hobbit would recover quickly. Youth and a bright spirit would aid in his recovery.

Sam lay still, breathing slowly and evenly, with an occasional hitch and a ragged sigh. His skin was also pale beneath the tan, his body, once plump and rounded, was thinned now, with shrunken muscles and hollowed cheeks and belly. Aragorn had seen the many bruises, scratches and burns on his arms, hands and legs when he had cut off the filthy rags which Sam had been wearing when the eagles had brought him out of Mordor. His heart had moved with pity to see gentle Samwise so wounded by the quest, but he was sure that Sam's sturdy strength would serve him well now. He would likely recover in time, and return to the healthy hobbit he had been before the quest.

Frodo. . .Aragorn sighed, looking at Frodo, and wished that he could be that hopeful in regards to the Ring-bearer. Fragile was too optimistic a word to use for Frodo. Unearthly was a nearer right description for the transparency of his skin and the slightness of the body that lay wrapped in a blanket on the cot. If not for the filth that covered him, he would have weighed next to nothing. Aragorn had managed to eke out enough water to wash the stump of Frodo's missing finger, and had bandaged it with a bit of clean cloth from his own pack, but there had been little else he could do, even for Frodo, until they could bring him to this place where there was plenty of water and at least the very basics of healing supplies.

Willen returned to the tent, bearing an armful of wood for the brazier, and he used several of the chunks to build up the fire. Another of the men followed with more wood, which he stacked on the ground by the brazier. Both of the soldiers glanced pityingly at the hobbits before bowing to Aragorn and quitting the tent once more.

Aragorn removed his leather coat and hung it on the cloak stand. They had not had to endure rain during their journey from the Morannon to the encampment at Cormallen, and his jerkin, leggings and his shirt were all dry, though soiled. He looked forward to washing himself and putting on the fresh shirt in his pack after he had cared for the hobbits. He laid the pack on the table and opened it to take out the small amount of athelas that he still had. So little that it was pitiful, but it would help to freshen the air in the tent, and ease the breathing of the hobbits. That was a dire necessity, especially for Frodo, who did not breathe quietly but gasped even in his sleep, fighting for every breath he took. Aragorn cupped both hands around the dried leaves and held them close to his face, breathing in the scent of the healing plant, and it served to refresh him, so that he felt newly strengthened for the tasks that lay before him. He put the athelas leaves carefully on the piece of cloth in which he had had it wrapped.

The air in the tent had grown warmer with the livelier fire burning, and Aragorn went to Pippin and began unwrapping him carefully from his blanket. Pippin half-woke and muttered, "No, Merry, I don't want to get up."

"Shh, Peregrin," Aragorn said gently, laying his hand on the hobbit's forehead. "No need to wake yet. We are only caring for you. Sleep and be at peace."

Pippin subsided, and lay still while Aragorn removed the blanket. It was of thin cloth, filthy and smelled strongly of horse because it had been rolled and tied behind a Rohirrim saddle. He would have preferred to wait for fresh clothing and blankets, but Pippin had sweated through this one, and the damp cloth was irritating his skin. The tent was warm enough that Pippin, at least, would be better out of his wrappings. Dressed only in his simple underlinens, Pippin shivered when he was uncovered. His skin was not as dirty as Sam's and Frodo's, though smeared with the black blood of the troll, but the bruises showed dark and evil on his body and Aragorn handled him very gently, finally laying him down on the clean sheet that covered the thin mattress on the cot. He held Pippin's hand, rubbed it softly and spoke to him, reassuring him that he was safe. Pippin's shivering eased a bit, but he tried to curl himself up for more warmth, shivered again and moaned a protest. Aragorn took the sheet from the extra cot and covered Pippin with it and the lad settled.

Aragorn was more than relieved when Willen returned, and this time Legolas was with him. They were laden with towels and clean linens and blankets. Willen stacked the things on top of the linen chest. A young woman carrying a large leather pouch followed them. She was dressed in white with a dark cloak over her tunic, and her hair was covered by a white coif that framed her round face and emphasized the large, clear brown eyes as she bowed to Aragorn, then straightened to look at him with wonder.

"My lord," she said. Her voice was low and even. "I am Malyn. Master Eldra sent me to assist you in caring for the halflings."

"Welcome, Malyn. I hope you have supplies in your pouch."

"Yes, lord. I have bandages and strengthening elixirs, unguents and packages of teas to help with their pain and to ease their breathing. Master Eldra also told me to bring soap, and nightshirts, and I have done my best, though we have few sleeping garments, and they are made of coarse cloth." She looked at Pippin, then at Frodo and Sam and shook her head. "I fear they will be too harsh for the skin of these small ones."

"We shall see," Aragorn answered. "I think Pippin and Sam may do well with them. Frodo may not. His skin is particularly delicate."

The Master healer entered with another of the soldiers Aragorn had sent to help him. Between them, they carried a round iron washing tub nearly filled with hot water that released steam into the air, and they set it down near the brazier.

"We can heat more water if you wish, my lord," Eldra said. "The cooks have been told that you want broth and tea brought to you here. Is there anything more you require?"

"Only cold water to cool the bath and a pitcher of water and cups for drinking, and that will do," Aragorn answered. "Thank you, Eldra. You've done well."

"I will bring cold water from the stream, my lord," Willen offered. "If Master Eldra will give me ewers in which to carry it."

"Yes, come with me," Eldra said.

Malyn had placed her pouch on the table. She opened it and began taking out leather packets of herbal mixtures, rolls of bandaging, several stoppered flasks and two small earthenware pots, setting everything out neatly ready for use. She took out three small bars of soap, three washcloths, and three nightshirts which she shook out before she laid them on the empty cot.

Willen and Eldra returned with a large washbasin and two pitchers filled with cold water. Eldra bowed once more to Aragorn and then withdrew. Aragorn took the larger of the pitchers and emptied its contents into the tub, mixed the water with his hand, and checked the temperature.

"That will do," he said. "Legolas, can you take the basin and wash Samwise without aid? He has many wounds and it will take much care to avoid doing him more harm. You will need to wash his hair with the cloth as well as you can for now. We can bathe him more thoroughly later, but for now we only need to get him as clean as possible, so that we can treat his injuries."

"I can bathe him." Legolas smiled tenderly down at the hobbit. "He is so small he will be no difficulty at all to me."

Aragorn turned to Willen. "And you, Willen, can you help Malyn to bathe Pippin? I know that you are a soldier, but the other healers are required elsewhere, and Pippin is larger than Samwise. She will need assistance with him, and I need to care for Frodo myself."

Willen started, staring at him. He was young, but his body was thick with muscle and he bore many scars that spoke of years of service to Gondor. No one could look less like a healer. But he recovered his composure quickly and bowed. "Of course, my lord, if you need me, I will do my best to help."

"I will show you what to do, Willen," Malyn said quietly. "You need only assist me if you will."

"Yes, Mistress," Willen agreed.

"You can take the larger pitcher and fill it from the tub," Aragorn said. "And use it as a basin. I will put Frodo into the tub, I think, as he needs the warmth even more than the others do."

Malyn and Legolas filled their containers from the water in the tub and began to bathe their charges. Malyn worked deftly, and Willen assisted her clumsily, but with obvious good will. Legolas took Samwise up in his arms, seated himself on the bed with the basin beside him, and proceeded to wash the hobbit's face gently. Sam released a deep sigh and settled against the Elf as though he were a sick child being bathed by his mother.

Aragorn watched for a moment, then he turned to his own charge. He unwrapped Frodo with care, and lifted the Ring-bearer, who felt limp and cool in his arms. Frodo was besmirched from head to foot with grime that felt oily and gritty to Aragorn's fingers and there was hardly an unmarred inch of skin on his bone-thin body. Around his neck were the ingrained marks of a chain, the skin there scored and cut and bloody. His hands, arms, knees, shins and feet were covered with cuts, bruises and burns. His hair was filthy and long, hanging over his forehead to his eyes in front and to his shoulders in back, dangling in dirty strings. At the base of his neck, just below the juncture of neck and shoulder, was a pitted wound, bluish red and surrounded by white flesh. It looked more than anything like an insect sting, although Aragorn had never seen an insect large enough to leave such a wound. Curling around Frodo's side was a long, red welt, the unmistakable mark of a whip, and Aragorn shuddered with a wrenching jolt of anger that any creature, however base, could have deliberately hurt this little one.

But anger would not help Frodo, and Aragorn put it away and became once again the healer, his only concern to treat the Ring-bearer's wounds and try to save the life that was held by such a delicate thread that a breath might break it.

Frodo had been wrapped naked in the blanket, and when he was uncovered his body reacted for the first time to any stimulus, the muscles contracting in the chill. Aragorn held him close, ignoring the smells of sweat and blood and dirt. He stroked Frodo's cheek with one finger.

"There, little one," he said softly. "I have you. You are safe at last."

Frodo's body slowly relaxed and he nestled against Aragorn's warmth with a sigh. The king carried him to the tub and knelt with him. He checked the water once more to be sure the temperature was not too hot for the hobbit's skin, then he lifted Frodo over the edge and lowered him into the warmth.

Frodo lay motionless and silent except for the rasping of his breath. Aragorn looked up to see that Malyn had finished with Pippin and covered him warmly, and Legolas was just laying Sam back in his cot and drawing the blanket up over him.

"Legolas" Aragorn called. "There are three leaves of athelas lying on the table with my pack. Will you bring one of them to me?"

Legolas went to the table and found the leaves and brought one to him, then watched as he crushed it in his hands, then dropped it into the water. Malyn came near and breathed in the fresh, clean fragrance that rose from the water and blinked.

"There is a virtue in this plant that I did not know," she said. "They are right when they say you are a Master Healer as well as warrior and king."

"There are things I learned in Imladris that I can teach to the healers of Minas Tirith," he replied, his eyes on Frodo's face, all his attention on the rise and fall of the narrow chest and the sound of the breathing that racked the hobbit's body. He laid his hand over Frodo's heart and felt the fine tremors that ran through him.

"Breathe as deeply as you can, Frodo," he said gently. "Breathe."

Frodo's brow wrinkled and for a moment he seemed to be struggling to wake. Aragorn watched as the blue eyes opened slightly, but the struggle was more than the depleted body could sustain and Frodo slipped back into his healing sleep. He drew in the scent of the athelas and after a moment his breathing quieted and he sighed and his body sank down into the water. Malyn caught her breath.

"It is difficult to believe that even orcs could do so much harm to such a small creature," she said. "He is like a child. They are all like children."

"Do not mistake them for children," Aragorn answered, speaking more sharply than he had intended, but he felt a strong need to insure that the hobbits were given the honor their deeds and strength deserved. "They are adults, and heroes, every one."

"We should put nightshirts on Samwise and Pippin," Legolas said quietly. Malyn seemed to shake herself, as though coming out of a reverie and turned back to the cot where Willen was still waiting.

"Come, Willen," she said. "Help me to put one of those clean nightshirts on this halfling."

"His name is Peregrin, Mistress," Willen said. "He is a soldier of Gondor."

Aragorn used the soap and the cloth to bathe Frodo as gently as he could, and before he had finished the water in the tub had turned black. But the hobbit was nearly clean except for his hair, which would take a great deal more water and soap than a wet cloth could supply. Legolas brought him the last of the clean water in the basin and poured it over Frodo's body as Aragorn lifted him from the tub and held him above it, so that the clean water would run over him and fall into the water below. Frodo stiffened and gasped.

Aragorn lifted Frodo into his arms again and Legolas brought him one of the towels in which to wrap the hobbit's small body. Seating himself on the spare cot, Aragorn held Frodo on his lap to dry him. He had left the maimed hand bandaged to avoid getting soil into the wound there, but he unwrapped it and tossed down the old bandage to examine the raw, ragged wound. He would have to trim away the torn edges of the flesh, scrape the bone smooth and make sure that no bone fragments were left in the wound before sewing it shut in hopes of clean healing, but that could wait a little longer. The bath itself had been enough exertion for the time being, and Frodo needed nourishment and rest before any further treatment was done. If Frodo was very fortunate, he would be left with only a smooth stump where a finger had been to remind him of his loss. If the wound did not turn corrupt, he would likely survive, and if it did, it might very well take his life. Aragorn hoped that the cleansing he had been able to do would keep that from happening. There was no use in worrying about what might happen he told himself sternly. All he could do was give the hobbit the best care he could manage, and hope.

He directed Malyn as to which unguent to use on Sam's wounds, and he salved Frodo's wounds himself, bandaging the ones he could and leaving uncovered those which could not be bandaged because of their locations. Willen and Malyn had dressed Pippin and Legolas had put a nightshirt on Sam, and the younger hobbits had been tucked in, warm and snug. When Aragorn picked up the third nightshirt and rubbed his fingertips over the cloth, he shook his head. It would be soft to a man's skin, but to Frodo, it would feel rough and uncomfortable. And to put him into his cot with no clothing would not keep him warm enough. There must be something that would be softer to his skin, something that would keep him warm. . .

Aragorn went to his pack and dug inside it, found his extra shirt, and drew it out. It had been made for him by Arwen herself, sewn of a cloth that was suitable for winter, but lightweight and smooth as silk, and he had carried it, folded and rolled small, in the bottom of his pack since the Fellowship had left Rivendell so many months ago. It was the color of harebells in spring, made without buttons or fasteners, a long tunic that would go on over his head and fit his body like a sleek glove. On Frodo it would be loose and the sleeves would be much too long, but it would keep him warm and it would be soft enough that it would not irritate his skin. And Arwen would understand why Aragorn had given her gift to the Ringbearer.

Aragorn looked up at Legolas and the Elf came to help him, and slipped the shirt over Frodo's head while Aragorn held him up. They worked the sleeves over Frodo's arms, turned them up so that his hands were free, then Aragorn lifted him beneath his arms so that Legolas could draw the shirt down over his body and to his shins. Below it, his feet showed, the dark fur thin and ragged from the rigors of the quest. But it would grow back. He would someday once again be the beautiful, gallant little being Aragorn had first met in an inn in Bree. Legolas moved Aragorn's heart greatly when he laid his white hand on Frodo's brow, stroked the damp hair back, and said gently, "He will sleep more peacefully in this garment, Aragorn. It will keep him warm."

A cooks' helper entered, bringing them broth and tea in pots, with cups and spoons, and the Elf went to clear a place on the table for them. He fetched a cup of broth and a spoon to Aragorn, then poured another cup which he took to Sam. Malyn taught Willen how to spoon broth into Pippin's mouth, and the two of them fed Pippin while Legolas patiently fed Sam a full cup of the warm liquid.

Aragorn held Frodo on his lap again, a clean towel laid on his breast to protect the beautiful shirt, Frodo's dark head supported in the crook of his arm. He brought Frodo slightly awake in order to persuade him to swallow the broth, then, with great care and patience, he was able to spoon a few ounces of broth into the hobbit. Once, as he was tilting the spoon to Frodo's lips, the Ring-bearer sighed and nestled his head against Aragorn's chest.

"Mmmm. S-sam?" Frodo breathed. "M-merry? Pip?

"They are safe," Aragorn whispered close to the shell of the small, pointed ear. "All of you are safe, Frodo, I promise. Rest." Frodo settled against him with another sigh, but when Aragorn offered the spoon with a final sip of broth, he turned his face farther into Aragorn's body in refusal.

Finished with the feeding, Aragorn eased him back into his deeper sleep, then tucked Frodo into the cot, making sure that the blanket did not touch his skin, that only the soft cloth of the shirt touched him. Frodo lay still, not even trying to turn onto his side, but his breathing had eased and his face, though discolored by bruises and marked by scratches, was clean and peaceful.

Willen and Malyn came to him and stood with him, looking down at the small form in the cot.

"These little folk have suffered much," Willen said. "They must be stronger than they appear."

"Their strength is such that they were able to do what none of the great were strong enough to do," Aragorn replied. "We owe them the victory that we won at the Morannon, and we owe them for the freedom our children and our childrens' children will know henceforth. Frodo carried the Ring of the Dark Lord to its destruction in the fires of Mount Doom, and Samwise went with him each step of the way. You know Pippin's deeds, and Merry's are already becoming legend among the Rohirrim. Your service to them has honored you and your family, Willen, and it will be remembered." Aragorn smiled. "Your aid here has been valuable and I appreciate all you have done." He laid his hand on the man's shoulder. "But, for now, I think that you should go and find food and take your rest with the other men, and then report to the Master Healer to offer him your further help. I will remain here with the hobbits for tonight."

Willen bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lord." He gave the hobbits one more glance, then withdrew from the tent. Malyn went to Pippin, who had stirred and moaned. She soothed him with her voice and a gentle touch, then she turned to Aragorn.

"My lord, if you would care to rest, I will watch over the little folk," she said.

"I will remain here to aid her," Legolas added. "Rest, Aragorn."

Aragorn sighed, remembering how he had looked forward to a wash and a fresh shirt. Well, he could at least wash his face and hands, and the empty cot would do for him to lie down for now.

"Thank you, Malyn, Legolas. I confess, I will be glad for some rest."

He washed his face and hands in the bit of warm water left in the pitcher, drank a cup of the hot tea, then lay down on the cot so that he could see Frodo from where he lay. He watched the gentle rise and fall of Frodo's chest. The clear blue of the shirt glowed against Frodo's white skin, and Aragorn did not regret that he had given it up for the Ring-bearer's sake. There was no one in all of Middle Earth, he thought, who deserved it more.


End file.
